Welcome Back
by aloneinabuilding
Summary: Do note that this story is a Johnlock fanfiction that takes place 2 months after the Reichenbach Fall. Johnlock will be making an appearance.
1. Chapter 1

***This story takes place two months after the Reichenbach Fall***

By the time I come to, it's around noon. Oddly enough the sun is shining through the blinds, landing right on my face. I pull myself up out of the chair. When I do, I hear little pops along my spine. Great, I think, a sore back to accompany my sore head. I go to the window and pull the drapes closed. Wincing as the light is brighter near the window, and enraging my headache. Damn whiskey gets me every time.

I then proceed to go take a shower. The hot pounding water feeling wonderful against the sore muscles of my back. I finish my shower and dry off, getting ready for the day. By the time I come out of my room it's two. I walk out the door and go check the post. Nothing of intrigue, just bills and more bills. I turn around and walk back up the stairs, every other step sending a little twinge of pain up my leg and along my spine. 'I've got to stop passing out in the chair' I say to myself. I walk back into my apartment, putting the post down on the small side table by the door. I walk into my bedroom and face plant onto my bed, drifting off to the land of nevermore.

When I wake up again the clock reads 7:56. I reach for my phone and check my messages. Two from Greg and one from Harry. I listen to Greg's, "John, you weren't in the tank this morning when I showed up at work, where are you? Call me back if you're still alive." The last bit was said jokingly, but I could hear the seriousness behind it. The next one is pretty much the same, only with a more hurried "Call me." At the end. I delete the one from Harry, not even bothering to listen to it. I call Greg back and he picks up on the first ring.

"Dammit John! Where have you been, I told you to call me at four!" He says.

"I was in my bed, sleeping" I reply.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to go out tonight, get something to drink?" He asks timidly.

"Sure. Meet me on the corner of Fifth street, there's a bar around there with some pretty good food."

"No, that's not what I-"

"Meet me there in twenty minutes." I say, cutting him off. Not bothering to wait for his reply, I hang up. I grab my coat, and walk out the door. When I walk out onto the street I notice that the the sun has gone away, and that it has started drizzling. I hail a cab and give the driver the address, leaning back into my seat and preparing for the ride.

By the time we arrive, the drizzle has turned into a rain, and the sun has left the sky completely.


	2. Chapter 2

I walk to the corner and wait. I check my phone. Greg had two minutes before it's been twenty and I leave. He knows the score though so I expect him to get here soon. I wasn't disappointed, not thirty seconds later I see him walking down the street towards me, shoving his way past people in the rain.

When he finally reaches me my alarm goes off. "Right on time." I say

"Well I didn't see you today, and Molly was worried, so I figured I better be on time. Don't want you leaving me like last time."

"Yes, well lets get going, it's not very far from here but it's raining."

We start walking a little farther down and about five minutes later we arrive. It's a quaint little bar with tables and chairs near the windows, and a couple of televisions placed sporadically around the room. I look towards the nearest t.v.. It's playing some football game, as I look away I see one of the players shooting a goal and the crowd going wild.

"How did you find this little hole in the wall?" Greg asks as we find a small booth to sit in.

"He pointed it out to me a couple months before... he was complaining about the noise that came from it whenever he'd walk by." I say before lapsing into silence.

"Ah, well, it seems nice." He supplies awkwardly.

"It is." I reply just as a waitress comes up to the table.

"John." She nods my way in acknowledgment.

"Claire." I say back. She's a rather short blondish woman around the age of twenty-four. She has a stain on her shirt, I'm guessing beer, and a crease running up the side of her pants leg that indicates she's been sitting down in the same position for a long time recently. There's a- no John! I think to myself. Don't do this. Claire turns towards me and asks, "The usual?" I nod. I don't know why she bothers to ask anymore, every time I come here I get the same thing: a bacon cheeseburger and a side of chips, with beer coming all night. "Never let the bottle empty." That's what I told her the first time I came in two months ago. She never had, either.

"John." Greg says, trying to get my attention.

"What?"

"Just wondering how you've been, didn't see you today. You said you've been sleeping? All day?" Greg asks.

"Yeah, I didn't get home until two a.m.."

"Oh." One of the teams playing on the television scores, and the bar cheers. Claire arrives with our drinks and it puts a brief end to Greg's prying questions. After taking a sip of his beer, Greg turns to me and says, "How often do you come here, the waitress didn't even ask you what you wanted, she just new?"

I take a long drink of my beer before I answer. "I used to come here every night back when- well you know."

"Every night! For how long?" Greg asks, watching me drink my beer.

I put down the frosted mug, the coldness of the concluding my fingertips to tingle. "Well about two weeks ago Theresa advised me to stop coming here so often. She said it's not healthy." I answer.

"Well-" He starts, but Claire shows up and places our food in front of us, as she turns to go, she looks over her shoulder at my beer, keeping track of how much of it is gone. We start eating our food, he got steak and a baked potato, I got the Italian steak sandwich.

About a quarter of the way through Claire brings me another beer, setting it down with a clink. As she picks up my empty glass she asks, "How is the food?" Greg answers that it's really good. I just nod, that's all she ever gets out of me, besides my order that is. She leaves again and Greg and I chatter on about the endless nothings in life. When we're about done Greg says, "Molly's worried about you. She said you we're supposed to be at the hospital yesterday, you apparently never showed?"

"In woke up puking, so I called in sick."

"'Sick' huh? Sure. More like hungover." He snarks.

"Potato patato. Fact is I wasn't well enough to do my job without causing problems for others, so I called in sick." I answer back.

Just as Greg is about to say something, Claire brings over the check. I pull out my credit card and give it to her, not even bothering to check the price. "I could have gotten it, after all I mean I am the one that asked you to dinner with me." Greg says after she walks away.

"It's fine." I say getting up. I put on my coat, not really remembering that I took it off. On the way out I stop back the register and pick up my credit card. Putting it in my wallet I walk outside and hail a cab. On stops immediately and I climb in, telling him my address, and lean back, ready to go home and drink away the pain and loss that fills my full stomach.

I arrive home fifteen minutes later. I look at the clock, it reads 9:00. I take off my coat, and then walk into the kitchen. I grab the half empty bottle of whiskey from the night before, fill a glass with ice, and walk into the sitting room. I take a seat in the chair, place my glass on the side table and think 'fuck it!' I unscrew the bottle and take a swig, feeling the glorious burn as the alcohol slides down my throat. I turn on the t.v. flipping past the news landing on some rerun of another dime a dozen detective show. I take another sip and change the channel, finally settling for some random show I've never even seen before.

After an hour of this, the bottle is finished, and I've turned off the t.v. I walk into my bedroom, take off my shirt and change into my pajama pants. Climbing into bed I realize that the whiskey didn't work, the emptiness still remains.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up the next morning hung over. I got up and went into the bathroom. After taking my shower I go into my room and change into a new pair of pants and a jumper. I stumbled into the kitchen, tripping over the bottle of whiskey that must have rolled across the floor after last night. Waking into the kitchen I grab a couple aspirin. I dry swallow them. Walking out of the kitchen I grab my coat, heading out the door. I hail a cab and give him the address to the clinic. The cab looks familiar as does the back of the drivers head, but I force myself to stop thinking that way. After work, I arrive home around nine p.m.. I go into the kitchen, make a sandwich and grab a beer. Sitting down on the couch I turn on the television. Flipping to some obscene channel, I finish my sandwich and my beer. I get up and go into the kitchen, picking up the whiskey off the floor. I carry it into the kitchen and throw it away. I grab a new bottle and walk into the living room, taking a sip as I go. *Sherlock's point of view* I watch him through the window. Seeing him drink himself into a stupor night after night is making my heart ache. I've been in England for two weeks now. I come to his window every night and watch, waiting for him to turn towards the window and see me, he never does. Mycroft says they're close to proving my innocence, and that when they do I can stop living in our parents basement and miraculously "come back to life." I've been helping and by tomorrow morning my innocence should be plastered all over the news. I talked it over with Mycroft and he started renting out 221 B. Mrs. Hudson never moved anything, and John had taken the bare minimum with him when he moved out. John... I miss him horribly. I see him every night, and drive him around in that silly little cab day after day, hoping he'll notice me. When I first got bach I snuck into his therapist's office and read the file she keeps on him. He obviously isn't doing well. In the first report it read that he hadn't said a single word. 


End file.
